Stockholm

2009/08/09 § 2 Comments


The day I arrived at the place I would certainly want to call my beloved home by now, I expected some fundamentally touching emotions. I entered the familiar airport bus, drove by my former flat, drove by yet another former flat of mine and got off at one of the city-squares that had represented the center of my personal universe for some of the happiest years of my entire life.

I expected to be overwhelmed by memories. Some moving memories, causing me maybe laughter of joy or possibly tears. To my surprise there was nothing of that kind, not even remotely- not at all. I admit, somewhat to my disappointment. My friends asked me how it felt to “come home” after these many months, actually even countable in years by now. But I could not report anything unusual. Nothing else than that moving between the parks, channels and bridges was all too familiar. Also, the language surrounding me was tinkling my ears in a familiar way and I immediately was set to auto-pilot when roaming the streets of this breathtakingly beautiful city which I would want to call “mine”.

Stockholm du fria...

Stockholm du fria...

I had some nice barbecues, reunions with friends, almost forgotten friends and rediscovered friends and warm welcome-back-celebrations. We picked up the topics that we had left partially unfinished when I left and it felt all like it had been yesterday since I left. Eventually, while wandering around the pictures and memories of the past crept up on me while they were lingering just around every corner of every street, sometimes dealing me joy sometimes calling for remorse but always with tremendous emotional value.

The summer was unusually generous to us. The perfect Swedish sun was as always in full splendor during the days and the remaining warmth of her playful outbursts more humble during the nights. I watched the boats and ships softly rocking on the waters between Mälaren and the baltic sea, glimmering in brilliant white due to the post midsummer-sun. There is NOTHING as enchanting as a summer in a place where people adore the too few warm days of the year due their notoriously rare appearance! Nothing.

I was walking around with great strides, taking back what was once mine and still belongs to me, and to me alone. I felt like I was showing off the city to myself, and showing myself around the plenty wonderful and very familiar sights of the – this time of the year- touristic areas, trying to spot any significant changes. But there was so pleasingly little in terms of change. Some things in life are pleasantly stable. Just as my love for this city and what it means to me and ever will.

Then, finally, when roaming between goose-bumping beautiful water-ways and medieval buildings, I realized what my initial emotion of almost indifference of being back had entailed. It struck me that it is not what this place gives me emotionally as much as what it does NOT give me. I felt an ease due to a lack of stress and distress that I had been lacking in many places of the world, at least to that extend. It is simply a lack of negative emotions.

A lack of displeasure that creates a feeling that can hardly be described. The love for this town is best described in negatives. Described in what it is not, which ultimately sculptures my personal picture of her and which is an incarnation of pure bliss to me. Not being like ANY other means being truly unique.

It sure is good to come HOME.

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